


this habit of scarring

by closingdoors



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/F, Non-Linear Narrative, Vanessa Works Through Some Issues: A Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:56:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors
Summary: Rhona sets the packet on the table. There's a sticker with her name on it, instructions on how to take the pills above the signature of the pharmacist."I didn't want them, but they made me take them," she says quietly. "I can't trust myself with painkillers."Rhona asks her friend for help. Vanessa learns her worth.





	this habit of scarring

To escape this constant  
slipping  
I must be tender enough   
so as to shed only the first skin.   
Like my sister’s snake - so too   
will I renew. Leave behind this   
habit of scarring & find a   
different, softer flesh.

 **Slipping, Adam B**  


* * *

 

 

Rhona sets the packet on the table. There's a sticker with her name on it, instructions on how to take the pills above the signature of the pharmacist.

"I didn't want them, but they made me take them," she says quietly. "I can't trust myself with painkillers."

Vanessa picks at her nail polish absentmindedly, frowning.

"How's that legal?"

Rhona lifts one shoulder in a shrug. Her skin's still pallid, the bags beneath her eyes bruised. Vanessa blinks, forgetting where she is for a moment, that she isn't years away in darker times.

"I trust you with them, though."

"Me?"

Rhona dips her head. Vanessa can't help but notice how she's looking at everything in the room but her. She swallows, throat thick with tears, remembering all those times she'd walk into a room and everyone else would walk out. When she and Rhona had no words for each other for the first time in twenty years.

"I know I never really... apologised, I guess. Or thanked you. For how you were with me back then."

"There's nothing to thank me for, Rhona. I made you worse."

"No." Rhona frowns, picking at invisible lint on the sofa. "That's not true. Who knows what I would've taken if you hadn't been there?"

"You might not have even gotten that bad if I hadn't meddled in the first place."

Rhona sighs. "Ness."

She nudges the packet across, until it's right in front of Vanessa. Vanessa keeps watching her, desperate for Rhona to meet her eyes.

"I want you to take them. I'm putting you in charge. Alright? You're my best friend, I trust you."

Rhona meets her eyes and something clicks together inside of her chest. Like the pieces had only ever been out of alignment, not missing.

"Okay." She takes the packet with trembling hands and nods. "Okay."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

From the looks of it, Charity's already made her way through the majority of a bottle of wine when heads through to the back room. She pours the last of it into her glass, cheek resting on her palm, pouting when it runs dry. She grins when she spots Vanessa.

"Hey, babe. Grab another bottle, will you?"

Vanessa smiles through the fear, resting her hands on the back of one of the dining chairs.

"Bit heavy for a Tuesday, isn't it?"

Charity snorts. "I run a pub."

"Well, you'd best leave some for the customers, hadn't you?"

Charity glares at her as she sheds her bag and coat, settling at the table with her. This isn't what she'd had in mind when Charity had text her earlier. _Ross has Moses, come over._ She'd left Johnny with her dad and figured she and Charity would be able to spend some quality time together for the first time since this whole Bails mess had started.

Maybe it's selfish of her. To want things to go back to normal.

"I thought we could get a takeaway," Vanessa tells her, thumbing through her phone contacts, "I've been craving a Chinese all day. Tracy and I had some from this new one that opened in Hotten last week and I've been thinking about it non-stop. Maybe we could watch a movie too? What're you in the mood for?"

"Wine," Charity retorts shortly.

Charity's chair scrapes against the floor loudly when she stands, draining the last of her glass. Vanessa sighs, setting her phone back down on the table when she disappears. Her fingers reach out and trace the stem of the wine glass.

Charity's reappearance is loud. She bumps into the doorframe and rolls her eyes when Vanessa shoots her a pointed look. She plops back down in the chair ungracefully, already uncapping the next bottle of wine. It's one of their lower end wines, Vanessa can tell from the sharp smell it gives off, but Charity doesn't bat an eyelid. She doesn't know why it makes anger cluster in her chest as much as it does.

"So, what? Getting bladdered is more important than being with me, is that it?"

"D'you know what, Vanessa, this isn't even about you, yeah?"

Vanessa stands this time, turning away from Charity to hide the tears that form in her eyes. _You're being stupid,_ she tells herself. _Charity's having a rough time._

Only. That's exactly how it'd been with Rhona. She'd been having a rough time with her back. They'd just numbed the pain a little, that was all. Even when she'd been sweating and shaking and curled up in the corner of her bedroom, that's how Rhona had rationalised it to her. How she'd coerced her into getting more. God, she'd broken the law for Rhona, by getting her hands on the amount of painkillers she had. Rhona would always be so _grateful_ for them though, so soft-eyed and full of smiles after.

That hadn't been about her back then, either.

"Are you staying?"

Charity's voice is rough. Vanessa turns, frowning.

"You want me to?"

"I always want you to stay."

Charity says it like it's obvious. Vanessa blinks at her.

"But I'm not in the mood for Chinese. Indian alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, 'course."

Vanessa sits back down once more, a little dazed. Charity's hand reaches over and settles on her thigh.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She reads somewhere that as much as you can try and help an addict, they'll only ever recover when they _want_ it to work.

You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink, she guesses.

Vanessa lays wide awake the night after Rhona books herself into rehab, wondering why it is she hadn't been enough. Why supporting Rhona, being her friend, _loving_ her - why that wasn't something she'd wanted to get better for.

She swipes at the hot tears that slip from her cheeks. She'd told Rhona, weeks ago, that she feels betrayed. But that's not the right word. That's not it at all. And maybe there isn't a word for the way Pearl glares at her, how smug Paddy is around her, how even Marlon has turned against her. Because she's an adult, she can deal with confrontation. But she can't make it worth it when there's nothing to fight for. There's no word for the way everyone's turned against her and she's left with all these memories of Rhona, shaking on the floor because she so badly needed the pills.  

Willing to do anything for them, even telling Vanessa she loved her.

She climbs out of bed, padding into the bathroom for loo roll to dry her cheeks, carefully avoiding her own reflection.

 _You repulsed her,_ Paddy had said.

No matter how much Moira has tried to comfort her, has told her that Rhona hadn't been in her right mind, that she'd hurt anyone around her, Paddy's words ring true to her now.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"Thank you."

Rhona sets the glass of water on the side after she swallows the tablets. Vanessa reaches down and squeezes her hand.

"How're you feeling?"

"Awful." She wrinkles her nose. "Bored stiff of being inside all day."

"Tell me about it. I was about ready to climb the walls about two days into bedrest."

"At least you had Charity. I think she secretly liked being your nurse."

"You could still have Pete."

Rhona messes with her hair, turning away.

"I don't want to talk about that."

"I know," she concedes. "But, Rhona, he could be here for you, he could be the one making sure you're being careful with the painkillers - "

"No. No, I don't want - I want you to be the one with them. Please, Ness. It's important."

Vanessa nods. She grabs the innocent-looking packet from the counter, hearing the material crinkle under her fingers. She stuffs it into her bag and exhales sharply. It feels too much like their dodgy dealings from before. How Rhona would corner her in the pub's bathroom, begging for more. How they'd meet in the café in the mornings for Rhona's pills, only for Rhona to go out and score more anyway.

She'd taken to carrying a set amount around, always in her back pocket, just in case. _Love me,_ she'd thought as she'd passed them over, _if I give you these, please love me._

"Where is Charity, by the way?" Rhona asks, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'd just gotten used to her being your little shadow."

"I haven't told her about... well, this. I figured you'd want to keep it private."

"Oh, Ness, I don't want to come between - "

"You're not."

Rhona purses her lips, watching her carefully. "Promise?"

Vanessa nods, zipping up her bag, watching the fabric swallow the painkillers.

"I'd better go. I've got a surgery at three. Make sure you rest, okay?"

She presses a kiss to Rhona's cheek and darts away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa lets Charity take her upstairs to bed, wasting the outfit and makeup she'd put on to go out.

It's worth it, she thinks. She hadn't been in the mood to go out anyway. Not after watching Charity flip out on Rhona in the pub and then burning newspapers about the Bails trial after. Not when there's all this unresolved tension hanging between them. One wrong step, one wrong word, and the thin thread they're hanging onto might break.

"I do wonder, you know," Charity says into her shoulder.

Vanessa frowns, rolling so she's facing Charity.

"About what?"

Charity tucks her chin down, tracing patterns against the mattress.

"What you see in me."

"Charity - "

"I mean it. God knows I've given you plenty of reasons to leave."

"You've given me more than enough to stay," she returns softly.

Charity curls a hand at the back of her neck, drawing her closer. This kiss is chaste, fleeting, compared to the passion they'd just shared. Vanessa curls her arms around Charity after and pulls under they're pressed together completely, her nose buried somewhere in Charity's hair.

 _She's trouble._ That's what Rhona had said, at the beginning of her and Charity, and Vanessa had agreed. As though Rhona hadn't been worse for her. As though having a bit of fun with a woman who messed with people could be worse than the torture of loving someone with an addiction. As though she doesn't know what it feels like to be used.

"I'll be better," Charity promises softly, "I'll make it work."

"Charity," she sighs, tears springing into her eyes. "You don't _owe_ me. God, please don't think I ever want anything but you, exactly as you are."

Charity laughs against her skin. "You'd be the first, babe."

"You're my first for a lot of things, too."

Being wanted like this. Loved, even if they haven't said it yet.

Men had loved her, craved her, but it had always been wrong. It'd never been like this.

Rhona had never been like this.

"Yeah, well, I reckon half this village must be blind."

Vanessa smiles. It soothes some of the sting that still lingers.

"Yeah." She runs her hands through Charity's hair. "Must be."

 

 

* * *

 

 

Charity has her feet up on the coffee table, sipping from her mug as they watch mundane Sunday television. Vanessa can feel herself dozing off even though it's the middle of the day, the steady rhythm of Charity's heartbeat against her ear lulling her to sleep.

"Oh - sorry."

Vanessa lifts her head to find Rhona standing in the doorway, fiddling with the strap of her bag. She smiles at her friend. She's looking better these days. There's a little more colour in her cheeks, a little bit of a bounce to her step. She's still a far cry from better, and Vanessa herself can attest to how long and hard the road to recovery can be, but she's on the mend, and that's what counts.

"Get lost on your way to the loo?"

Vanessa rolls her eyes, digging an elbow in Charity's ribs. Her fiancée winces.

"Give us a second, Charity."

Charity cuts her eyes between Vanessa and Rhona. "Why?"

Vanessa pushes her up and off of the sofa. "Just - go bother Chas for a second."

Charity reaches for her, grinning. "I thought you liked it when I bother you."

Vanessa bats her hands away, but she can't help the smile on her face. Charity makes laughter easy.

"Fine," Charity sighs dramatically. She points two fingers at herself then at Rhona. "This isn't over."

"You can stay," Rhona offers. "Really, I don't want to - "

"Go, Charity," Vanessa instructs when her fiancée pauses in the doorway. "You're supposed to be working, anyway."

"Spoilsport."

Charity slinks around the corner. Rhona looks small, once she's stood there on her own. Keeps fiddling with the strap of her bag. Vanessa feels it riot inside of her - the paranoia. It clusters in her chest, building and building.

Old habits die hard, she guesses. Rhona's given her no reason to believe that she's addicted again. They've been following the instructions on the sticker to a T. Meeting when Rhona's due, and Vanessa observes her taking the right amount and no more than that, and trusts when she leaves that Rhona isn't going to go and find some more somewhere else. Rhona has been nothing short of responsible.

The problem is that she'd thought that the last time.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Don't be silly. I was dozing off actually, so you've saved me from a sleepless night." Vanessa sits upright and stretches her hands above her head. Her scar tugs, a ghost ache. "What can I do for you?"

Rhona steps into the room, slipping her hands into her coat pockets. She's curled her hair today for the first time since the accident. Vanessa smiles as she watches her. She really is beginning to look like the Rhona she knows.

"I need some painkillers."

Vanessa's eyes flick to the clock. "You're not due any for an hour."

"I know. And this isn't me, you know, trying to trick you," Rhona says, palms up like she's surrendering, "but I'm in agony, Ness. I haven't slept all night. And Leo was difficult this morning so I just - I'm just drained."

"Painkillers aren't the solution to that."

Rhona's jaw sets and Vanessa rises to a stand. She knows Rhona. She's known her for over half of her life, she's her oldest friend. And she knows when she's gearing up for an argument.

"That's why they were prescribed to me. You know, I've just had surgery - "

"I know how that feels."

"But _you_ had someone looking after you."

"That's exactly what I'm doing for you."

"Is that what you called it before?"

Vanessa inhales sharply. Rhona's face twists up with something ugly, something malicious.

The silence that settles between them is thick and heavy. She waits for Rhona to break it, but she doesn't, just continues glaring at her. Vanessa rubs her sweaty palms on her thighs. It's been a long time since she'd had to deal with this. She'd almost forgotten how mean Rhona could be when she was having withdrawals. There'd been larger parts she'd remembered, of course. Like the time Rhona had slapped her. That sticks with her. She remembers the feeling, the way it felt like she'd scooped out all of her insides to make space for Rhona, to try and keep her whole. She's forgotten the words.

Vanessa moves past her, out into the corridor. She knows Rhona will follow her. She won't make a scene in public. She never did. Too proud for that. Always happy to yell, to snipe, behind closed doors.

"Ness? Where are you going?"

"Where does it look like?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean - "

"Yes, you did."

Vanessa rounds on her just in time to see Rhona close her eyes, sighing, and Vanessa realises it's true. It hits her like a punch to the gut.

"Babe? You alright?"

Charity heads through from serving, a hand settling on the small of her back. Vanessa leans into it. This is where she draws her strength, nowadays.

Rhona’s gaze flickers between them, assessing. Rhona’s one of the toughest people she knows. But Charity’s edges are sharp. Vanessa can feel how Charity’s tensed up, sensing the atmosphere, ready to spring to her defense without a word. Rhona’s not match for her. 

"I'll see you later, Ness."

Rhona brushes past Charity when she leaves. Charity's mouth opens, as if to argue, but Vanessa just tugs her closer. 

Charity comes willingly, offering comfort without question. Vanessa rests her head against Charity's shoulder and feels her warm, strong arms wrap around her. Strange. How once, she hadn't thought Charity capable of this. How she'd let others warp her ideas about her.

"What was that about?"

Vanessa ropes her arms around Charity's middle.

"It's nothing."

"Didn't  _look_ like nothing." 

"It'll blow over. She's just wound up from recovering, that's all."

"Reminds me of someone else I know," Charity mutters into her hair.

Vanessa pulls away. Charity's eyes are light, the corner of her mouth quirked up into a small smile. She watches Vanessa sometimes like there's nowhere else she'd rather be. It's a new feeling for her. A new way of being appreciated. 

"Thank you. For being so good to me."

"Are you joking? After all the times you've looked after me?"

"It's not a chore," she says gently.

Charity's eyes wrinkle at the corners when she smiles.

"No," she agrees. "It's not."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rhona sends her a letter while she's in rehab. Vanessa hides it under her pillow, waiting until the rest of the house of is asleep before she rips it open. 

Rhona's familiar handwriting makes her heart hammer furiously. She takes a moment just drinking it in, not reading the words. Imagining Rhona, miles away, putting pen to paper. The slope of her neck as she bends, the way her wrist twists as her hand dances across the page. In these idle daydreams, Rhona looks better. Healthier. And it doesn't feel like a betrayal, knowing escaping her was the only way Rhona could recover.

It's short, the letter. Vanessa frowns at the length. She could fill an entire book with how she feels right now. 

 _Vanessa,_  it begins, and Vanessa's frown deepens. She can't remember the last time Rhona called her by her full name.

_I'm doing well. It's harder than I thought it'd be. I miss Leo._

All the  _I_ 's make Vanessa's head spin.

_I don't know if this will help you. I thought about doing a total radio silence, but another woman here told me she always found it better to write. She said it's cathartic. I'm still not really sure what to say or if I'll send this. I guess you'll find out._

_I'm getting better, I promise. It's different this time. I hope we can be friends when I get back._

_Love,_

_Rhona._

Vanessa flips the paper over, searching for the apology she hasn't been given. It's blank. She sniffs when she feels herself starting to cry. She won't give Rhona the satisfaction, even if she is hidden away.

Still, her thumb presses against that word.  _Love._ It doesn't feel like that anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Charity heaves with her next flurry of vomit. Vanessa pulls her hair back from her face, using a bobble on her wrist to tie it back, and rubs a comforting hand up and down. 

Charity groans. Vanessa reaches past her to flush the toilet and her girlfriend sits back, Vanessa's front pressed to her back. She stinks of bile and her eyes flutter closed, body still unsure and swaying against her from the amount of alcohol she'd had.

"Are you able to move?"

Charity shakes her head. "Just... give it a minute."

Vanessa nods. She wraps her hands around Charity's middle tentatively, shifting her legs so that they rest either side of her, Charity settles between them. Her girlfriend leans on her heavily.

It still scares her sometimes, seeing her like this. She understands this is Charity's way of coping. God knows she's got more than enough on her plate with the trial tomorrow and Ryan's arrest. Still, she's afraid of the day she walks in to find no-one's kept an eye on her while she's been gone. The day the empty bottles pile higher and Charity's body can't cope with it all. With Rhona, one fight had lead to her intentional overdose.

She doesn't know how she'd cope if she lost Charity.

In spite of all the world's thrown at her, Charity is a bright spark. She's her North Star, guiding her home. She has plenty of reasons to drink like this, but when she isn't this way - when she's herself, wholly and completely, she makes happiness easy. She accepts Vanessa the way she is. Wants her, deeply, all the time, a concept Vanessa still can't wrap her head around. Allows her to be herself. Helps her little family unit grow. Until she's no longer sure where the parts that make her end and the parts that make Charity begin. And that kind of co-dependency should scare her, it should be unhealthy, but it tethers her to the ground. Keeps her from drifting away.

"M'sorry," Charity mumbles. "Go. Johnny's birthday."

"It's one in the morning, Charity. He's asleep."

Charity peels her eyes open. Her head tips back, resting against Vanessa's shoulder.

"Babe..."

"Yes?"

"One in a million, you are."

Vanessa presses her smile against Charity's jaw.

"There's seven billion on this planet. Not much of a compliment."

Charity shifts, curling into Vanessa, and she recognises the signs of her girlfriend falling asleep instantly. Instead of moving her, she keeps cradling her like this. Charity's sleep has been fitful this past week, after all.

"Smartypants," Charity breathes out. "You know what I mean."

She's asleep once the words leave her mouth. Vanessa rests her cheek against the top of her head and holds her tighter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

An hour after their argument, Vanessa knocks at Rhona's door, the painkillers tucked away in her bag. Rhona opens the door and her shoulders drop. Vanessa can't tell if it's from disappointment or relief.

"Can I come in?"

Rhona steps aside. "Of course."

Vanessa heads into the kitchen, busying her hands instantly, trying to occupy her mind with it. Rhona stands by the fridge, watching as she pulls a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water. It's a mundane, everyday sort of routine they've found themselves in. Vanessa cringes at the rustle of the packet as she withdraws the sleeves, popping two pills onto the counter. Innocuous enough. Her hands still shake when she passes them to Rhona with the water.

Rhona takes the pills with a steady hand. Her expression is carefully neutral when she swallows them. She sets the water back on the counter and Vanessa's hand reaches out for the open packet sat next to it before she can stop herself.

Vanessa sighs. "Sorry."

"Don't be," Rhona offers. Her hand pulls away slowly. "Reflex, right?"

"Right."

Still, she slips the painkillers back into her bag instead of leaving them out. Rhona watches her carefully.

"I'd tell you, you know. If it felt like it did before."

"Would you?"

"I don't want to be like that again. That's why I've put you in charge."

 _Made me your punching bag again,_ Vanessa thinks. It's an unfair accusation. Addiction is a disease. Rhona had been as much a victim as she had.

Yet she can't help but think it.

"Maybe you could ask Paddy - "

"Only you know what I was like, Vanessa. You were there with me through it all. The others - they wouldn't understand," Rhona admits. She plays with the hem of her cardigan. "Still friends?"

Vanessa rolls her eyes at Rhona's hesitant smile. She reaches out and squeezes her in a brief hug. 

"We're always friends, Rhona."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa hovers near her phone from the minute she gets back. Charity's father hadn't been what she'd expected. She'd expected to find some of Charity in him - that same spitfire, same fight to survive. Instead he was cruel, like someone who had crawled inside of themselves and had no plans to come back out. Everything withdrawn, while Charity radiates tentative hope.

She thinks she understands it a little better now. Charity's childhood. There's only so much understanding sympathy could provide. Seeing it firsthand, the way they had both emerged from the experience, she thinks that's given her a little more perspective. Even if she had been - understandably - kicked out halfway through the conversation. It's another facet to Charity, one she's grateful Charity had been willing to share with her.

Her phone buzzes on the counter. One message from Charity:  _Home._

It's late, Johnny's already asleep and she has no plans to wake him up to take him over to the pub, so she grabs her coat and checks Tracy's okay keeping her eye on him for a little while. Then she dashes across the road, boots unzipped.

Charity's nursing a brew when she walks in. Sat on the sofa, staring into space.

"Hey."

Charity's eyes snap up to her.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We don't have to."

This is another part of the understanding, she thinks.

Vanessa discards her coat over the back of the sofa. She makes herself a brew. Charity remains silent. But her arm reaches out when Vanessa settles down beside her, roping across her shoulders.

“My dad always made me feel small when he drank.” Charity lets out a shaky breath. “So you tell me if I ever make you feel like that, yeah?”

“You won’t.”

“Vanessa - “

“Okay. I promise.”

But she knows she could never feel anything but ten feet tall whenever Charity looks at her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

"You've been spending a lot of time with Rhona."

It's how Charity greets her when she gets home. Vanessa tilts her head, trying to assess the way her fiancée's tone is neutral, a little too flat. Charity's sat with a crossword at the table, but it's completely blank.

"Are you _jealous?_ "

Charity makes a small noise in the back of her throat. "As if, babe."

"Oh my god. You are!"

Charity rolls her eyes, pushing the crossword and pretence away. Vanessa feels a strange sort of pleasantness forming in her chest. Charity's  _jealous._

"What? A crime to want to spend time with my fiancée, is it?"

Vanessa laughs softly, walking over to loop her arms around Charity's shoulders. Her hip presses against Charity's arm.

"If only you were this eager about wedding plans."

"You sure you don't want to reconsider my beach idea?"

"If you want to get married at all, that'll be the last I hear of that."

Charity's mouth snaps shut. Vanessa's head tilts back when she laughs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

A bottle of wine rolls out from under the sofa as Vanessa searches high and low for Johnny's favourite toy. 

She picks it up, frowning. It's empty. She knows - she's not stupid - that Charity stashes bottles under here. Ones she's not finished with just yet, ones that won't be far out of reach. Never empty ones.

"Oh. Hello, love. I didn't know you were here."

Vanessa startles, clutching the bottle to her chest. Chas raises her eyebrows.

"Sorry." She panics, almost forgetting why she's here in the first place. "Johnny couldn't find his Rubble before nursery this morning, I thought we might've left it here."

"I see." 

"Where's Charity?" 

Chas points a finger to the ceiling. "Where d'you think?"

Vanessa, bottle in hand and toy forgotten, takes the stairs two at a time. She pushes into Charity's room and finds her girlfriend laying on her side. Tear tracks are still drying on her cheeks, mouth open and a little puddle of drool forming. Vanessa stands in the doorway, watching and waiting for the rise and fall of Charity's chest. The signs that she's still breathing. When she spots it, she remembers how to breathe herself.

She sets the bottle on the side as quietly as she can, shedding her coat, bag and boots as she goes. She pads around to her side of the bed. Vanessa settles above the sheets, cross-legged, just watching that rise and fall. 

It occurs to her that she hasn't seen Charity sober for a few days now. Her chest feels tight at the thought. 

There's so many things she wants to say. Words she wants to give Charity to try and make it better. But she knows that words can't fix this. Can't take away the damage Bails did, the empty space losing Ryan had left behind. If they could, she'd fill Charity to the brim with words of love. She'd make sure she was so full that there'd been no room for the bad things to make their way in.

Vanessa wonders what that says about her. Loving women who hurt. First Rhona with the painkillers, now Charity like this. Why she can't give herself the shot at being appreciated by someone normal.

But she doesn't want normal. She wants Charity.

She settles back against the pillows and watches. As long as Charity keeps breathing, she knows they'll be okay in the end.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa tells Charity the truth about Rhona as they lay in bed.

She holds a lot of it back. It feels like a betrayal of trust; spilling it all when they're like this, laid bare. Like tearing up a twenty-year friendship.

So she tells Charity that she had fallen for Rhona. Truly and deeply. Romantically, unlike how she'd taught herself to pretend after it'd all blown up in her face. That it hadn't been reciprocated, Rhona hadn't been herself when she'd manipulated Vanessa, and that she doesn't blame Rhona for one second of it.

The sheets rustle when Charity shifts. Her hand sifts through Vanessa's hair. 

"Did it hurt?"

"For a while," she admits. Her throat clogs with an emotion she hasn't a name for. "It was hard. Loving her. Just... hard."

"I'm sorry. If I've ever made you feel that way."

Vanessa shakes her head, lifting a hand to cup Charity's cheek. Rhona's cheeks had mostly been coated in mascara that had smudged with her tears. Her hands would always shake until she'd had her fix. The few times they'd kissed had been as desperate as they were chaste.

There's nothing like that, with Charity. No-one yelling at her once the dust settles. No accusing fingers, no harsh words, no loud silences. Just a warm smile and hands that hold her.

"It's not hard with you," Vanessa tells her carefully. "And even if it was, it'd be worth it."

Charity catches her hand, presses a kiss to her palm.

"Right back at you, kid."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

No-one lets her see Rhona at the hospital.

They tell her it's her fault. That she'd given her the drugs; that she'd made her worse; that she'd kept it a secret so that Rhona depended on her.

Sometimes, she wonders if Paddy's right about that one.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Vanessa sets the packet on the table.

Rhona frowns, looking up from her mug.

"Ness?"

"I can't do it," Vanessa confesses in a rush, "I tried really hard, Rhona, to be here for you. But I can't."

 _It's not my job anymore,_  she thinks. She nudges the painkillers across the table.

"It's too hard."

Rhona smiles, but it's not quite there.

"I get it. It's a lot to ask."

She reaches out and tangles her fingers with Vanessa's. Vanessa slumps down into the empty seat next to Rhona, sighing.

"Will you be okay?"

"Never mind that."

"How can I not?"

"Are _you_ okay?" Rhona returns, squeezing her hand.

Vanessa shakes her head, surprised when tears escape. She hadn't meant to cry. She'd meant to hand the painkillers back over and leave, let the past end there. She hadn't meant to drag the pain back up.

"I thought I was doing the right thing, you know. Back then. Giving you the pills."

"I know."

"And I really loved you."

Rhona sighs. "I know that, too."

Vanessa sniffs, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

"They all blamed me. Paddy, Marlon, Pearl. Even Laurel. They all said it was my fault and you never once defended me from that. It hurt, Rhona. You hurt me."

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"No, I - "

Rhona makes a frustrated sort of sound. She untwines their hands and stands, pacing back and forth. Vanessa watches her, drying her cheeks as she does. There's no correlation anymore, between the woman who loved Rhona and the woman she is now. Rhona is nothing more than a friend to her. But it haunts her still, that guilt. It niggles away at her sometimes, late at night. Reminds her that she could've been a better friend. Someone worth getting better for.

"I'm really sorry, Ness. For all of it. For manipulating our friendship, manipulating _you,_ I - there's no excuse for it. I was sick and I'd do whatever I could and god, I regret it. I don't know how you ever forgave me. I didn't deserve it." Rhona pauses, frowning. "And I'm sorry if - if the way I treated you, and your feelings for me... well, if it made you feel like you couldn't - "

Vanessa holds a hand up. "Stop."

Rhona does.

"No offence, Rhona, but you're not Charity."

"Um. None taken, I think."

She laughs. "I loved you, yes, but I had no idea what it meant. With Charity, I just... I knew. So don't you dare blame yourself for me not coming out. Charity sort of - woke me up, I guess."

Rhona smiles, and this time it reaches her eyes.

"I'm really glad you found her, Ness."

"She found me," she returns, thumbing her engagement ring. "I'm the lucky one."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Charity doesn't ask her to stay.

Her skin is still cooling, breaths still too shallow in her lungs, the sheets tangled around her ankles. Charity's mouth curls up in a smug grin as she crawls back up the bed. Vanessa can't hate her for it - Charity has every right to be smug. She's really, _really_ good at this.

"Now," Charity practically purrs, trailing a line from Vanessa's stomach up between her breasts, "was that _really_ so bad?"

Vanessa gropes for any lingering thread of sanity. There's nothing left. All of the lies she'd force-fed herself growing up had spilled out and away from her the minute she'd followed Charity up her stairs. Or maybe even last night, kissing for hours in the cellar, her body so coiled and _ready_ it felt like she might explode with need.

Vanessa pushes up on her elbow suddenly to capture Charity's lips in a kiss. Charity groans, deep and loud, apparently pleased by this surprise.

It's dark outside by now. The pub downstairs which Charity had abandoned in favour of leading her to her bed has long since closed. There'd been a space between the moments, in the silence, in the recovery, when she could hear the sounds of Chas getting ready for bed. Charity's personal life opened up to her. It had faded to background noise when Charity had pressed the length of her body against her own again.

When she pulls away, she searches Charity's eyes, to find any meaning to this. Something in her wants to be more than just a plaything to Charity. Because this - this is life-changing to her. The world turned on its axis.

The way Charity stares back at her -

Vanessa lets her head fall back down to the pillows. She waits for Charity to make some offhand remark, something cruel that'll remind her how much of a terrible idea this had been. Something to override the desire.

A hand threads through hers. Vanessa tenses as Charity tugs, pulling her onto her side, and Vanessa finds her front pressed to Charity's back.

There's nothing sexual about it.

"I get you have a big brain an' all," Charity murmurs, "but stop thinking so loud."

Vanessa forces something that sounds like laughter. Charity's hand rests loosely over her own, pressed against Charity's stomach. She only begins to relax when she feels the rhythm of Charity's breathing begin to slow.

Charity doesn't ask her to stay. She stays.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Moira finds her raiding the fridge for wine at two in the morning. 

Moira blinks sleepily at her, brows pulled together in confusion.

"What're you doing?"

Vanessa pours herself a large glass. "Trying to forget." 

She plops down into one of the dining room chairs. She doesn't want to forget, not really - she doesn't want the wine either. But she sure is sick of laying awake each night, worried about how Rhona's doing, worried about how they'll ever learn to speak to each other again. Sick and tired of doing nothing. Of not being able to fix things.

Moira crosses her arms across her chest.

"Vanessa, this isn't going to help."

"It's better than any idea I've had so far."

Moira settles in the chair beside her and reaches for her hand. Vanessa breaks instantly, covering her face with her hand when she feels the cries leaking out of her. It's almost embarrassing, how much everything hurts.

"Why can't I be enough?"

Moira reaches out and pulls the hand away from her face, forcing her to meet her eyes.

"Enough for what?"

"I don't know." Vanessa wets her lips. "Anyone."

Moira gives her a smile too full of pity.

"You fell for the wrong person. Trust me, we've all been there. Cain was my wrong person once." Moira shrugs. "In my experience, though, you'll know when it's right. Because you'll love them through the bad stuff and, in the end, they'll be there to love you. Not leave you." 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She can't breathe.

Vanessa's eyes spring open and she gasps. Yet there's no air, she's choking, she's sure of it.

She rips the sweat-drenched sheets off of her. Her skin is scalding, hair clinging to the back of her neck. She stumbles for the first few steps and thinks, distantly, she hears someone say her name. But she's still gasping, desperate for air, lungs squeezing and aching for it. She can't breathe. Why can't she breathe?

She reaches the window and shoves it open, welcoming the freezing night air on her skin.

It's only then that she realises how much she's shaking, trembling; how white-knuckled her grip on the windowsill is; the palm rubbing up and down her back.

"Breathe, babe," a voice murmurs, and she listens, "you're okay. I've got you."

Her knees knock together and her jaw begins to chatter from the cold. It's the first kind of relief she's felt and she sobs with it, doubling over and resting her forehead on her arms. The hand doesn't falter. Continues its soothing motion. Up and down. Up and down. Never too fast or too slow and always reassuring. Charity.

"Sorry," Vanessa groans. "Go back to bed." 

"Not without you." 

They stay standing like that for longer than Vanessa cares to count. She breathes slowly, deeply, trying to chase the nightmare that'd lead to her panic. There's flashes of flame. Fire. She'd never feared the fire hurting her - she'd only thought of Charity, how she'd been inside the pub, how it could've swallowed her up. No. The broken bottle that'd pierced her skin had been the real danger.

Vanessa's stomach rolls. She still remembers how it'd felt. How it'd sucked the breath from her lungs. The blood on her fingers, warmer than she'd expected. She couldn't move, couldn't save Johnny - 

"Babe. Come sit down."

Vanessa lets Charity pull her from her panic. Charity's gentle with her, like handling china, too much like how she'd been after the stabbing. Like she's fragile. Vanessa shakes her off with a little too much vigour. She's not fragile.

"Ness?"

"I'm not a child," she spits.

"Thank god for that, otherwise that would make our relationship a bit dodgy, wouldn't it?"

"You're not funny, Charity."

Charity stares her wide-eyed. Vanessa turns away and tenses her jaw. 

It'd been easier leaning on Charity for support when she couldn't get anywhere without her. When it'd been a physical, medical, thing. Not when it's her damn mind, torturing her with things that happened weeks ago. That's not how it's supposed to go. 

"What is it?" Charity's voice is softer than she deserves. She feels a hand flutter near her scar. "Is it..." 

Vanessa turns her eyes to the ceiling, tears pooling quickly.

"I'm sorry. I'm not supposed to - "

"There's no _supposed to_ in recovery, Vanessa."

"But I'm me."

"What does that mean?" 

"I look after people. It's what I do," she confesses softly. 

"Who looks after you?"

"I don't - "

"Not how it works, buttercup."

Charity's arm wraps around her waist. She shuffles closer, the ends of her hair tickling Vanessa's collarbones. Vanessa sighs, letting her weight fall against her entirely. Finally resting.

"What was it you said, eh?" Charity tucks a strand of hair behind Vanessa's ear. "Perfect for each other."

"Cheesiest thing I've ever said."

"No. It's true."

Charity coerces her back under the covers. She watches her fiancée close the window and draw the curtains. She catches a glimpse of her in the moonlight, eyes tired but still kind, and it knocks the breath out of her.

She's spent a lot of time being unwanted. Left by her father; used by Rhona; abandoned by Kirin. She's still not quite sure how to form that feeling into words. That kind of loneliness. She hadn't been unhappy before Charity, but her life had been quiet. Before Johnny, she could fill it with nights out on the town and enough alcohol to make her forget she's desperately unremarkable. After Johnny, she'd put all of her energy into raising him, making him feel loved, wanted. She wanted to be the perfect mother - the kind she hadn't been in the beginning. There was no way she was going to let her son ever feel the way the world had made her feel.

It's nothing compared to the things Charity has been through. Or Rhona. She can't conflate their experiences with their own. But she can't pretend that the world hasn't hurt her. That she hasn't spent too much time giving her love to the wrong kinds of people.

Charity slips into bed with her. Vanessa's hand slips beneath her pyjama shirt, seeking the warmth of her skin. That's something that'd surprised her about Charity, when they'd first slept together. How soft her skin was. Back then, she thought it'd been a simple difference between man and woman. Over time, she's come to realise how delightfully Charity that one detail is. How she can be callous and cruel, reckless and careless, but when they're like this, it's delicate.

Charity reaches up and taps a finger against Vanessa's temple.

"Sleep. Switch that big brain of yours off for a second."

"What if I can't?" 

Charity breathes in deeply, rolling until their foreheads are pressed together.

"Share it with me, then," she whispers gently, "and I'll make it better."


End file.
